Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
Iworked in the garden room until midnight. The scents were a balm to my emotional turmoil—peaty moss, rich minerals, herbs and flowers, all combined to create a calming perfume.
It helped, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more.
At midnight, with moonlight silvering every blade of grass, I stripped off my clothes and sank into the earth.
As soft, damp earth closed over my head and the world went dark, a transcendent calm came over me.
Within the earth, I was able to be my truest self.
The soil accepted me the same way it accepted the roots of a plant.
In the soil, I wasn’t only physically naked, I was bared emotionally, stripped of all pretension.
It saw me as I was—woman, witch, demon, alpha—and loved me despite my imperfections.
Within the cool and cozy depths of my element, my soul—and magic—was nourished. I emerged from the cool earth an hour later, clear-headed and refreshed. Resolute.
“I’m going to start a coven,” I said to Ronan when he walked through the door at two a.m. I was on the sofa, snuggled in a light blanket.
“Really?” He tossed his keys into a shallow bowl beside the door. “How is that sitting with you?”
“It feels inevitable in some ways, like I’m betraying my lineage in other ways, and terrifying in all ways. But I’m doing it.”
“For good reasons?” He plopped onto the sofa and put my feet on his lap.
“Yes. I’m tempted to tell you it’s to protect the park, the witches, and the pack.”
“That’s not true? Forming a coven won’t do that?” He massaged the underside of my foot with the pad of his thumb.
“It will. That’s just not the only reason I’m doing it.”
“Then why?” He switched feet, kneading my tired muscles. I’d definitely be returning the favor in a minute. He was, after all, the one who’d been on his feet all night.
“I need someone to keep me from going too far.”
He didn’t pretend not to know what I meant. “And you think the witches can help?”
“The witches. Ida. My partners. You.” I tossed my blanket aside and stood, pulled Ronan up, too. “I’m a lot to handle. I require more than one failsafe.”
He chuckled then tugged on my hand until I was standing chest to chest with him. “You’re not a lot, Lilibet Lennox. You’re strong, powerful, and unreasonably sexy.”
“I could say the same of you,” I said.
He smiled, swept me up into his arms, and took me to bed.
The next morning at eight, Ronan was showered, dressed, and ready to go while I was seated at the table in a faded, oversized Earth, Wind, and Fire concert T-shirt, with messy hair, no makeup, and a death-grip on a mug of coffee.
“I’m meeting my accountant at the pub in a half hour,” he informed me.
“You have to do math this early in the morning? Yikes,” I said.
“The world is a cruel place. What’re your plans today?”
“Gardening. Cecil and I’ve got seeds to germinate, fertilizer to spread, and charms to make.” I got up, refilled my cup, and sat back down. “Hey, I got a text this morning from one of the wolves.”
“I warned you not to give any of them your number.”
“Oh, stop it. I’m their temporary Alpha. They need to be able to contact me and I don’t really do the pack bonds thing, so I’ve been passing out my number.”
“Big mistake, I’m telling you.”
“Ronan.”
He shook his head, laughed. “So, who called?”
“Someone named Dr. Marrakchi asked to meet with me at the pet clinic in Smokethorn. Do you know this person?”
“Not well, but Jamila’s got a solid reputation. She’s a lower-level alpha, almost a beta wolf. Her clinic doubles as a shifter medical care facility.”
“Why would she be calling me? For that matter, why are all these people texting me?” I held out the phone for him to see the ten other texts I’d gotten while we were talking.
“They probably need help with something.” Ronan kissed my cheek and went to retrieve his keys. “Got to go. Make sure to take some backup with you, Alpha.”
“He refuses to leave.”
Dr. Jamila Marrakchi stood in front of the taller man, arms crossed over her petite chest. She was in her mid-forties and had a heart-shaped face, delicate features, and a short cap of defined black curls.
Also, a white lab coat, which gave me instant anxiety, even though I wasn’t a shifter or anyone’s pet and she had no reason to give me an exam.
“I’m in pain,” the other person in the room with us wailed.
He stared down at us with teary, doe eyes. He was at least a foot taller than the doctor and me and so gaunt he appeared hollow, like all his insides had been siphoned out.
“I can’t call the human authorities, for obvious reasons, and I didn’t call the second alpha because I prefer not to resort to violence. A member of my staff suggested I call you.” The doctor eyed me in a way that told me she didn’t think she’d made the right choice.
“My bones ache,” the man wailed.
“Yes, they do, Mr. Tyler. Because you are an addict going through withdrawal.” Dr. Marrakchi said, not unkindly.
“I’ve done what I can to help. It will get better, but you must stop using.
You are a shifter—a mighty leopard. You’re strong enough to overcome this, and I will assist, but I will not prescribe you drugs. ”
“I only need enough to take the edge off. Stop fucking around and give me what I need,” Mr. Tyler screeched then immediately hung his head and cried, “Oh gods, I’m sorry, Doctor. I’m sorry for using that language. I’m … sorry.” He lifted bloodshot eyes to mine. “This pain. It brings out my worst.”
Quietly, in the hallway before coming in, the doctor had explained that the man had been prescribed opioids by a physician after being shot several times with silver-coated bullets. He’d barely survived.
“His doctor renewed his prescription for two years without blood tests or even the barest assessment of his condition. When the doctor retired, Mr. Tyler was abandoned with his addiction and his pain.”
Silver on a wound is enormously painful and impedes a shifter’s natural rapid healing mechanism. I was still shocked that Mason had healed as well as he had after being so viciously attacked with the stuff. He owed a huge thanks to the witches and Ronan.
I stared at the strange, hollow man. “I’m Alpha Betty Lennox of the La Paloma pack. What’s your name? Where’s your pack?”
“Joshua Tyler.” He collapsed into the wood-and-vinyl chair beside the examination table. “No pack, prowl, or leap. I’m alone.”
The doctor went to a cabinet and brought him a room-temperature bottle of water. He thanked her, held it in both hands, and took a drink.
“Do you want to quit using?” I asked.
Joshua wrenched the bottle away from his mouth, and water dribbled down his unshaven chin. “By the moon, yes, Alpha.”
“Good.” I set my Kate Spade bag with the customized pockets sewn into it on the examination table and rifled through it. “I can help.”
Doctor and patient asked, “How?”
“With this.” I produced a silver chain with a soldered, pressed glass charm dangling from it.
“What is it?”
“Pain charm. It’s not as strong as an opioid, but neither is it addictive.
Don’t worry, like all shifter jewelry, the silver portions are either triple-sealed with a shifter-safe polymer or are surgical stainless steel, like this one.
I make them for the elderly wolves at the senior apartments in La Paloma.
One wolf in particular had been suffering with debilitating arthritis because she couldn’t afford care. ”
“I didn’t know they were suffering. Why didn’t I know that?” Dr. Marrakchi’s brow furrowed then smoothed as she seemed to internally arrive at the answer to her question.
“Let me guess. Floyd.”
She sighed. “The former Alpha blocked all my efforts to organize medical care for our less fortunate wolves. His philosophy was ‘the weak must pull themselves up by their bootstraps.’ When I tried to explain that providing a baseline of care benefited the entire pack—that a starving animal cannot hunt, so to speak—he told me empathy was a weakness that he would not allow to proliferate in the Pallás Pack.”
“Good news. The old pack ways are gone.” I approached Joshua with the charm. “May I?”
He nodded, watched me with hunted, desperate eyes.
“How are we different now, Alpha?” Dr. Marrakchi asked softly.
“We believe in lifting shifters up, not grinding them under our heels.” I bent down and placed the charm over his head, smiling when he visibly relaxed.
“Wear it against bare skin. It will help with the pain and allow you to taper off, but if you take anything else—if you use—even once, it won’t work anymore.
You’ll have to bring it to me to recalibrate. ”
“The itching is gone.” Joshua risked a smile. “The need is still there, but it’s … manageable. I can breathe.”
I stood and motioned him up. “All right then. Let’s go.”
“Go?” He blinked. Sat up. “Where?”
“A place where you can take a shower and get some clean clothes.”
He shot a wary look at the doctor before returning his gaze to me. “I’m not one of your wolves. Why would you do that?”
“Same reason I gave you that charm. Because providing a baseline of care benefits us all.” I smiled at the doctor, who stared wide-eyed back at me. “Send over your medical care plan for the pack. I’ll text you my email.”
The doctor eyed me with the same suspicion as Joshua did. “O-Okay, sure.”
I escorted Joshua to my Mini, where I was joined by Fennel, who’d been patrolling the perimeter of the building and parking lot. Cecil was at home, filling lavender orders for the cafe and babysitting his string-of-pearls plant.
The cat’s lips curled and his ears flattened when he got a whiff of our fragrant passenger. Normally, I would’ve laughed at his goofy expression, but I didn’t want Joshua to think I was ridiculing him.
We drove to the pub, and I dropped Joshua off at the door and told him to go inside and tell the owner Alpha Betty sent him. Then I sent Ronan a quick text of explanation, waved goodbye, and drove off to the next place on my list.